26 #2
As he withdrew again, he made an unabashed slurping sound.
His tongue flicked against my tip, wiggling down into my hole as he tugged on me with his free hand.
I came so hard the force drew me up off the mattress, then I collapsed, panting stridently.
He stroked me until I was empty, oozing achily over his hand in warm spurts.
"Baby..." he whispered, lazily licking my tip and watching me with hooded eyes. I disintegrated, shrinking for air, throwing both arms over my face in humiliation. When I came to, he helped me take my shirt off and cleaned me with it.
***
I flipped over onto my belly, totally spent, but he wasn't done. Right away, he dragged me onto my side, reaching around to unhurriedly stroke my chest and nipples. Kissing my burning ear; refusing to let me be. I remembered this side of him all too well.
"I want you..." he uttered, sounding like a demented alternate universe version of himself. "I want you..." he half-groaned. "All." I nodded, at a loss for words, then lay on my stomach and shut my eyes.
He took his clothes off and lay beside me nude, pressing kisses down my spine and ass.
He parted my cheeks and his tongue delved into my warmth, savoring it like he hadn't eaten that morning.
Then he forced me over onto my back and kissed me, and I had the strange experience of tasting myself and not knowing how to process it.
The way he kissed me since we reunited was like he was trying to take all my breath.
And when I grew weak, he caught me up against him and always kept going until I lay rasping for air.
The noises he made let me know he was kissing me with everything he was.
Insatiable, unabashed—toxic, violent hunger.
Wresting all of me. Nothing had changed, except he wanted me more now.
I sensed in his touch a desperation, one calibrated by shame and a need to be guarded; yet his affection won out in the end and for me he was hysterical.
I was beginning to fade. My eyes rolled into the back of my head.
Nothing was visible. I could only feel. Feel him slipping a few lubed fingers inside me while he sucked my taut nipples.
Felt his fingertips flicking a switch deep within me that renewed my erection within seconds; twice as potent as before.
All I could think was that he had brought me here, to his bed, his sanctuary; back into his heart.
What should have been their bed was now ours, like every other bed he'd had since we met.
She would lay down later and have no idea I'd been there.
She would have no idea that when she touched him—tasted him—she was in fact tasting me.
That when she looked at him, she was really staring down the years at me, for he and I were one.
His fingers stroked me so deftly I was rock-hard, beginning to leak all over his fist which fondled me with a disquieting skill.
He pressured nerve endings deep within, making me moan convulsively.
I could barely catch my breath for exhaling in what I could only describe as savage pleasure.
As he dragged his fingers from within me, tugging relentlessly with his other hand, I came again; twice as hard as the first time.
He smiled, pleased with how easily he could milk me.
As I scooted, quaking and defenseless, to the head of the bed, he assisted me because I was too weak to bear my own weight. Then he grabbed a pillow and set it under my hips to prop them up. I covered my eyes with my arm, shuddering with anticipation.
He settled between my legs with a grunt and asked me if I was alright.
I nodded. He shuffled around a bit, situating himself.
I bit my knuckles, eyes rolling into the back of my head as I absorbed every part of him—the pressure, the weight, the texture of the sheets, the sounds he made.
He pulled my hand away and set his lips to mine with a moan.
"Hurry," I uttered. He grabbed more lube and I could hear the cap snap open and shut.
I flinched when he jammed a few wet fingers inside without warning.
He liked when we could be face-to-face so he could watch how responsive I was.
As he slid inside, I peered out from beneath my tremulous arm.
He locked eyes with me and refused to relent until his lids squeezed shut; overcome by a shudder.
"Babe…am I hurtin' you?" He must've seen me wince. "It's okay, baby...you can tell me. Tell me, baby…"
I shook my head; lying to please him. The pressure of his girth was so deeply sensual, so deeply rewarding, so deeply right that I began to faint.
My eyes rolled into the back of my skull and all I could perceive was the color that inhabited this sweet delirium.
The hues of his touch, a spiritual energy that filtered throughout my body as he inhabited it.
He just hung there motionless, filling me, splitting me. Like an occupying foreign power. This was not love-making, it was possession. He was taking control, so much so that I needed his permission to move in any way.
"Babe..." he sighed. An incredulous exhale.
An indictment, because I was destroying him as much as he was destroying me.
When my vision cleared, we locked gazes and he pushed deeper.
With a vigor to let me know who I belonged to.
The pain was relentless, but I needed to let it unfold.
I needed to bleed for him. It was ritualistic.
For him I was fool, dog, slave. All things debasing.
He withdrew slightly, but somehow the easing of his pressure was punishment. I punched him in the chest, forcing him to slide back inside.
"Torture me...hurt me..." I gasped, blinded with tears.
He slid out of me, holding off on his climax; replacing himself with lubed fingers. He knew I needed work. It had been too long. But he had given me what I wanted. He had made us one again, if only momentarily.
"Deeper..." I pleaded as he reentered. The initial penetration was like a hit of heroin.
I arched my back, overcome with his rigid, throbbing flesh.
Yes, God, yessss. When he came inside me for the first time in what seemed forever, it reverberated like shockwaves.
I was electrocuted. He shuddered violently, collapsing and sputtering my name.
Later we sat upright in the center of the bed, interlocked. My legs straddled his waist. We kissed with a sick infinitude, absorbing one another. The room was frightfully silent, apart from the sound of our lips meeting and parting.
"Marry me..." was my delirious sigh.